


The Bet

by straponselina



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, carla is the ultimate bro, dinesh and carla are bros, idk when this is supposed to be set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straponselina/pseuds/straponselina
Summary: Carla bets Dinesh that he can't ask Gilfoyle out before she asks Monica out.





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please review!

Dinesh was alone by the pool, watching the moon reflect off of the water and thinking about the day he had just had. It had been a long day. Richard had insisted on a ten hour code sprint, and now everyone was fucking exhausted. For Dinesh, though, it was a strangely nice exhaustion. He and Gilfoyle had been working together to fine-tune the cloud architecture. After about two hours of arguing over how to actually do it, they had settled into an easy rhythm, working seamlessly in tandem.

“Scoot over.” Dinesh was startled out of his trance when Carla suddenly appeared next to him, gently shoving him towards the edge of the pool chair. She was carrying a glass pipe and a small plastic baggie.

“Of course you would bring weed to work.”

“No, Dinesh, I’m a professional. I stole this from Erlich.”

As they talked, Dinesh lost track of time. He layed back on the pool chair and watched the stars as they talked about a bunch of random bullshit he was sure he wouldn’t remember in the morning. That was, until Carla decided to ruin the peace.

“You and Gilfoyle rocked it today. I guess fucking really does make working together easier.”

Dinesh immediately sat up. “What?! We’re not— why would you say that? We’re not fuc— we’re not together! Why would you even think that?”

Carla shrugged. “I just figured you two would be dating right now.”

“Well, you figured wrong.” Dinesh lay back down.

After a few seconds of silence, Carla spoke up. “Why not?”

“. . . What?”

“Why aren’t you dating? I mean, you spend 20 hours a day together, when you’re not talking to him you’re talking _about_ him, and I don’t photoshop gay porn of guys who don’t have any chemistry together.”

Dinesh cringed at the memory.

“So why aren’t you dating?”

Dinesh decided he must have gotten a contact high because he would have never said his next words sober. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“You should ask him out.”

Dinesh couldn't help but let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. “What if he says no?”

“He won’t say no.”

“But what if he does.”

Carla sighed. “Okay, how about a bet: if you ask him out I will give you one hundred dollars.”

“That’s not a bet. You would just be paying me.”

“Fine, I bet you one hundred dollars that I can ask out Monica before you ask out Gilfoyle.

“What? You like Monica?” Dinesh felt a slight twinge of guilt at the realization that he didn’t know as much about Carla’s personal life as she did about his.

Carla looked bemused and smiled devilishly. “Hell yeah! She’s totally my type. I would’ve hated her in high school.”

Dinesh burst into a fit of giggling. Yeah, this was definitely a contact high. “Y’know what, lady, you’re on! You are going down!” Dinesh paused. “I’m mean you’re gonna loose. I don’t mean you’re going down like, like _going down_ on Monica. Because you won’t. Because I’m gonna win.”

Carla smirked. “Yeah, dude, I follow.”

* * *

When Carla returned to her apartment that night, Monica was sprawled on her couch and listening to Natalie Merchant over Carla’s tricked-out sound system.

“Hey, babe!”

Carla pressed a quick kiss to her temple before flopping down on the couch, head in Monica’s lap. This was by far her favorite non-sexual position— she loved it when Monica petted her hair.

“What did you do today?”

“I bet Dinesh one hundred dollars that he couldn’t ask Gilfoyle out before I ask you out.”

Monica abruptly stopped petting Carla’s hair. “Carla.”

“Yes?” Carla looked up at her with an innocent expression, as if she didn’t know what Monica was about to say.

“We’ve been dating for three months.”

“That boy needed some motivation! And if I get some cash out of it, is that so bad? It’s not my fault that he has an overly-developed competitive drive. Or that he’s so consumed by his own pathetic love life that he’s completely oblivious to mine.”

Monica frowned. “I wouldn’t call your love life pathetic.”

Carla picked up Monica’s hand and placed it back on her hair. “That’s not what I meant. But it is kind of pathetic how into you I am.”

Monica smiled and leaned down to kiss her. But before she could, Carla said, “I’m not as pathetic as Dinesh, though. I didn’t need to be manipulated by an evil genius just to ask you out.”

“You think you’re an evil genius?”

“Yeah! And that’s why you love me.” With that, Carla grabbed the back of Monica’s neck and dragged her the rest of the way down. Monica hummed into the kiss. She balled her hand into a fist in Carla hair and gave it a firm tug. Carla gasped an broke away. “Do you want to move this to the bedroom?”

Monica smirked. “That depends. Are you only asking me so you can win a hundred bucks from Dinesh?”

Carla laughed brightly and started unbuttoning Monica’s shirt.

* * *

Carla, Dinesh, Gilfoyle, and Richard were all silently coding in the incubator’s workroom until Carla stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly. She turned to Richard. “Hey, Dick, have you talked to Monica recently?”

“Oh, yeah, I actually just got back from Raviga and . . .”

Carla clearly wasn’t listening as Richard continued to ramble on. She made pointed eye contact with Dinesh and suggestively raised her eyebrows.

“Hey, Gilfoyle!” Dinesh said much too loudly, interrupting Richard’s excited speech about whatever. “Do you wanna go get some coffee?”

“Sure, let me go grab my jacket.”

As soon as Gilfoyle was out of the room, Dinesh turned to Carla and beamed. “Fuck you! Give me my money now, please!”

“That doesn’t count. You guys get coffee all the time. He probably doesn’t even realize what this is supposed to be.”

Dinesh made a face at Carla before storming out.

Richard looked utterly confused.

* * *

Dinesh knew he had to move quickly if he wanted to win the bet. Carla had way more game than him, so it was now or never. As they stood in line at Peet’s, he rehearsed what he would say in his head. _Gilfoyle, do you want to go on a date with me sometime?_ It was only one sentence. It was easy! Fuck Carla!

Dinesh was so caught up in his internal monologue that he realized too late that it was his turn to order. Gilfoyle and the barista stared at him until Gilfoyle finally rolled his eyes.

“He’ll have a medium caramel macchiato.”

It took all of Dinesh’s willpower not to blush. Instead, he gaped as they walked over to their table. “You know my order?”

Gilfoyle looked at him silently, clearly confused by Dinesh surprise. “. . . Yes.”

Dinesh nodded. “Okay. Okay. That’s cool. Thank you. Y’know . . . for ordering for me. . . And for knowing my order. Yeah, thanks. . . man.”

Gilfoyle continued to stare at him. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing!”

Dinesh didn’t say another word until they got back to the incubator. He completely forgot to ask out Gilfoyle.

* * *

“Caaarla!” Dinesh whined. “I don’t know how to do this!”

They were sitting by the pool again. Dinesh had started to think of it as their Camp David, their exclusive spot where they could discretely discuss the most sensitive subject matters. Carla just liked coming out here to get high.

“Do what?” To Dinesh’s mortification, Erlich chose that exact moment to emerge from the house in an open kimono and a speedo.

“Dinesh doesn’t know how to ask out Gilfoyle.” Carla lit her joint with an ease that Dinesh couldn’t help but envy.

“Carla, I swear to God if you went through my stash again I’m going to— wait, what the fuck?”

“It’s really none of your business,” Dinesh grumbled. “And please, please tie your robe.”

Erlich simply ignored him and laughed. “Oh, sweet, young, virginal Dinesh! Of course I will help you on your quest to bed dear Bertram!”

“I didn’t ask. And I’m not a virgin.”

“I have just the thing!” Erlich rushed into the house. When he returned, he was carrying a CD and was now only wearing the speedo. He threw the CD on the pool chair next to Dinesh. “Boom!” It was Sade.

Dinesh turned to Carla. “Are you fucking happy?”

“I don’t know, man, he might have a point.”

“Thank you! I am, in fact, a trained master of seduction so—”

“Not about Sade. About music. Gilfoyle likes music. You should take him to a concert."

* * *

The problem with Carla’s idea was that Gilfoyle’s music was . . . unconventional? There was a point in time when Dinesh would have said that it sounded like the human incarnation of a garbage disposal being tortured in a Saw movie, but despite his best efforts he had become strangely accustomed to it. Occasionally, he found it comforting when it leaked from Gilfoyle’s headphones during a code sprint or even muffled from across the hall as Dinesh drifted off to sleep.

At full volume, though, Gilfoyle’s music was still pretty much shit. So as Dinesh sat on the couch browsing StubHub, he searched for something they could find common ground in.

Fall Out Boy was going to be in San Francisco. They were hardcore, right? Gilfoyle could be into them. They were definitely the most hardcore thing within Dinesh’s own range of taste.

Dinesh looked up as Gilfoyle walked past him on the way to the kitchen. “Hey, Gilfoyle! Fall Out Boy’s pretty hardcore, right?”

Apparently that was enough to halt Gilfoyle’s mission for dry cereal. He turned around and stared with his signature lack-of-expression. “No, Dinesh, Fall Out Boy is not fucking hardcore.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Fine. You’re right. Fall Out Boy’s for fucking nerds.” Dinesh closed the StubHub window and shut his laptop a little too roughly.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I don’t care! Why would I care about what’s hardcore and what’s not? It’s stupid! Your whole _thing_ is stupid!” Dinesh waved his hand in Gilfoyle’s general direction before stomping towards the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“Coffee!”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No!”

* * *

“That was literally the opposite of asking him out, Dinesh.”

“Shut up, Carla!”

* * *

“You really shouldn’t smoke, Gilfoyle.” Dinesh and Gilfoyle were standing outside Russ Hanneman’s disgustingly ostentatious mansion. They were there for a company meeting, but discovered upon arriving that they had only been invited so Russ could make some Al Qaeda jokes and point at Gilfoyle while yelling “this fucking guy!” So when Gilfoyle had excused himself for a smoke break, Dinesh followed.

“Why? Does it look too much like I’m sucking on your tiny penis and make you feel all confused inside?” Gilfoyle’s deadpan was infuriating.

If Dinesh were smooth, he would have said _I’m way past confusion_. But he wasn’t smooth. He knew it and Gilfoyle knew it, so he remained silent and leaned against the side of the house.

Silence between them was rare. They talked about everything together, so when they shared a silence it was usually because they had said everything that could have possibly been said. Or at least, everything they were willing to say.

Gilfoyle could tell Dinesh had something he wanted to say. He stared at him with his fucking shark eyes and Dinesh briefly wondered if he could see inside his mind. Dinesh looked down at his shoes and let the silence continue.

For once, Gilfoyle was the first one to break. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Dinesh immediately tensed. He nodded, but kept looking down at his shoes. Gilfoyle sighed and stepped in front of him, corning him against the house. He used the same hand he was using to hold his cigarette to lift Dinesh’s chin. He was way too close and Dinesh began to panic. Was this it? Was this finally going to happen? The last thought Dinesh had as Gilfoyle leaned in closer was _will Carla still give me my money if Gilfoyle makes the first move?_

Then Gilfoyle opened his mouth and blew smoke directly into his face. Dinesh started coughing and Gilfoyle just laughed his creepy, low laugh.

“You fucking asshole!”

Gilfoyle kept laughing.

* * *

Today was the day. It had been a week and Carla’s snide remarks were getting to be to much. Dinesh hadn’t even bothered to ask her why she hadn't asked out Monica yet, he was too busy deflecting her snark. He stood in front of the small mirror in his bedroom and practiced all morning.

“Gilfoyle. Hi. How are you? I’m good. So, I know this might seem sudden but . . . We have something special, right? And I want to explore it. So, do you want to, like, go see the new Avengers movie with me? Like, in a date kind of way? I heard it’s kind of bad, but we can make fun of it together afterwards.”

Finally, Dinesh decided he was ready. He walked into the kitchen where he guessed Gilfoyle would be enjoying his noon breakfast cereal. Gilfoyle was there, but there was problem. He had just gotten out of the shower. And he was shirtless.

“Fuck you!” Dinesh yelled before spinning on his heel and stomping back to his bedroom.

A couple minutes later there was a knock at his door. Dinesh grunted loudly and Gilfoyle took it as an invitation to come in. Thankfully, he had had the good sense to put on a shirt.

“What the fuck just happened?”

Dinesh refused to look up from where he had faceplanted on his bed. “I’ve just had a frustrating week.

When Gilfoyle spoke, his tone was surprisingly sincere. “What’s going on?”

Dinesh took a deep breath before answering. “Carla bet me a hundred dollars that I couldn’t ask you . . . something before she asked . . . another person . . . that something.”

“I can’t help you if you talk to me like a parent explaining sex to a seven-year-old.”

“You don’t want to help me.”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want you to randomly walk into rooms, yell ‘fuck you’ at me, and then just leave. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

Gilfoyle sighed. “What did you want to ask me, Dinesh?”

Dinesh’s answer was muffled by the pillow that he had shoved his face into.

“Alright, come on.” Gilfoyle grabbed his arm and pulled him into a seated position. “Now try again.”

Dinesh looked him in the eye and squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath before blurting out, “Would you like to go out with me?”

Gilfoyle stayed silent. He stayed silent for so long that Dinesh desperately tried to save whatever dignity he had left. “You know, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. This doesn’t have to be weird! We can still—”

“Yes.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘yes’?”

“I mean yes, I would like to go out with you.”

Dinesh surged forward and crashed their lips together. The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated, but that was okay because this whole ordeal had been sloppy and uncoordinated. After a few minutes, Gilfoyle broke the kiss.

“Wait, who was Carla going to ask out?”

“Monica!”

Gilfoyle started to laugh.

Dinesh laughed with him. “I know! It’s totally weird, right?”

Gilfoyle laughed even harder. It was the hardest Dinesh had seen him laugh in a while. “No, dude, Carla and Monica have been dating for three months. She scammed you.”

Dinesh blinked. “No, she wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, she would. I’m pretty sure Monica even has a key to her apartment.”

Dinesh got up from the bed and marched towards the door. “Carla!”

“Dinesh, she isn’t here.”

“CARLA!”


End file.
